


Nothing Special

by LucilleBarker



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Demiromantic Kim Wexler, Demisexuality, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucilleBarker/pseuds/LucilleBarker
Summary: Emotions were messy. Sex was messy. Any sort of relationship was messy.Kim Wexler had no desire for any of it.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: LGBT+ slur from one Mama Wexler

Dust particles danced among lines of sunlight that streamed through economy window blinds. Kim watched them jump and twirl, determined to stay afloat at all costs. Weightless and small.

The mattress beneath her dipped as the shape next to her shifted. She pulled the sheet closer to her, pressing it against her neck. The desert heat seeped in through the cracks, and a bead of sweat dripped down the back of her neck.

Emotions were messy. Sex was messy. Any sort of relationship was messy.

Kim Wexler had no desire for any of it.

* * *

There was a memory of a slumber with her cousins. Kim sat in her cousin Pauline’s room as she draped a bedsheet over her head and discussed in detail her future wedding. Big church, lilies and roses everywhere, a wedding dress just like the one Princess Diana wore that summer, her future husband would look like Christopher Reeve... 

“What about you?” Pauline asked. “What is your wedding gonna be like?”

Kim shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Like, if you could marry _anybody_ , who would you marry?”

She picked at a loose thread on her pajamas. “I don’t know,” she repeats. “I can’t think of anybody.”

* * *

“You have a boyfriend?” Beth Wexler asked, all smiles and charm.

“No,” her daughter replied.

It seemed like the only question her mother was ever interested in nowadays. She wanted to know about Kim’s crushes, what she thought about “that Harrison Ford,” or if any of her friends had boyfriends yet. And Kim never had an answer.

Kim would watch her small world as she grabbed books from her locker, looking for someone to catch her eye. But every face—boy or girl—was just another face. Then she would catch sight of Linda Terrence and Nicky Smith making out by the water fountain, and her nostrils flared. _Why would anyone_ **_do_ ** _that?_ she wondered. _Oh my god, is that their tongues_ _?_

The closest she had ever come to considering anything like that was her fourth time watching _To Kill a Mockingbird_ on late night TV. Beth had agreed to let Kim stay with her grandmother while she worked late nights over the weekend (and drank a portion of her check after her shifts). Kim laid on the couch, her head pillowed by a couch cushion and knees tucked up under a crochet blanket that her grandmother had made for them. The knotted yarn scratched at the skin on her elbows, but the weight grounded her, kept her warm as snow and ice drifted down outside of their door. 

On the screen Atticus Finch packed his suitcase, his dark hair flopping in front of his eyes to hide a defeated grimace. For a brief moment, Kim’s heart ached. She wished that she could push the hair from his face, hug him tight, tell him he did the right thing.

_Is this it?_ she thought. _Is this what everyone has been talking about?_

Kim reached for the other cushion at the opposite end of the couch, wrapping her arms around it. She closed her eyes and listened to Atticus’s voice. She tried to picture it. Maybe she was older in this scenario, like twenty-three or twenty-five. Maybe she could take off his glasses so that she could really look in his eyes. Were they brown? Hazel? Maybe she could press a kiss to his lips.

She could picture it. But was it because she was attracted to him or because she saw a kindred spirit. Someone to aspire to be rather than someone to be with.

Kim opened her eyes again, gently pushed the couch cushion onto the ground and waited for Boo Radley to appear.

* * *

She strode into the Hinky Dinky and asked for an application. The associate told her that she would give them a call. Kim Wexler asked if the manager was available to speak now.

“So what drew you to this job?” the manager asked her.

_I’m tired of being chased by landlords because my mother can’t pay rent._

“I’m looking for work experience that is flexible with my school schedule,” Kim replied.

At sixteen-years-old, she is offered her first job as a cashier. After school, she would walk to work, polo and khaki pants in her backpack, and would ring up her teachers, classmates, and drunkards that asked after her mom. There was an evening where she caught sight of the landlord that had chased Kim and her mom through the snow. Eight years later, and she could still feel the chill biting at her bare feet, screaming in pain as her mother told her to run faster and get in the car. Eight years later, and the man didn’t recognize her. She gave him $16.82 in change and only breathed when he walked out the door.

Two days after she turned seventeen, Frank asked her to speak with him before she clocked out. “Would you be able to work full-time hours this summer?”

“Sure. I won’t say no to more money.”

He chuckles. “Great! So, um... you’re graduating soon, yeah?”

“About a year from now.”

“Where do you see yourself after that?”

“Well, um... I’m not sure.”

“It’s just that you’re my best employee here and, uh, the kids that work here usually quit once they get out of high school. And you’re my best employee here, and I thought... well, you know. Do you know what I’m saying?”

Kim’s mouth went dry. “Yes, sir.”

She walked back home. Her mother worked nights nowadays, bartending and sneaking drinks with her patrons as often as she could. Kim was on her own, with no car to drive her back to a place where the walls reeked of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Her calves ached after the first few weeks of working at the store, no amount of stretching could relieve the pain. When her muscles were no longer screaming from the distance, her skin burned from the winter months. It was a lucky day if a co-worker offered to drive her back to her apartment. Embarrassment and shame muted her temptation to say “yes.” Was she used to the pain now, or did she just learn to ignore it?

She thought about her life after high school, years of walking back home from the Hinky Dinky. More Red Cloud citizens learning her name and asking how her life has been. More invitations to a church function, more questions about how her mom was doing, more older men saying that if they were younger...

Kim stopped inside the gas station. She scanned the aisle before picking out a small bag of Doritos. _This should hold me over_ , she thought. She approached the register with her meager dinner, but Kim’s stomach filled with lead as the boy behind the counter trailed his eyes up and down her body. Before he could say anything, she dropped a five dollar bill between them. He smiled, placed two fingers on top of Abraham Lincoln’s face, and slowly dragged the bill across the surface. He took his time punch in the numbers on the register, talked to her. “You go to Red Cloud High, don’t you? I think I’ve seen you around before. Just graduated last year, so I’m guessing you were a sophomore when I was a senior.”

If she was anybody else, maybe she would be flattered. Maybe she would know how to flirt back. Instead, Kim crossed her arms, hiding herself as best she could. 

“Here’s your change, beautiful,” he said, pushing the small package over and leaning in with it. His hand was fully atop her change—the only way she could get it involved touching his hand.

She yanked her money from his grip and almost charged out without her chips. The bell above the door jangled from the force of her escape. She imagined her life stuck in Red Cloud, working at the Hinky Dinky, marrying the Gas Station Casanova, being tied to her mother and watching her drink Kim’s savings away. She ran faster as if the image was trying to catch up to her, sweep her up in a tornado and trap her inside a dark cloud of dirt and wind and hopelessness.

When Kim arrived at the apartment, it was dark and empty. She stumbled into her room and dug through the items of her closet. On the floor, an old shoebox that held small tokens from her dad and old friends. She buried her change and the rest of her money underneath photos of family members smiling, hiding their reality for the sake of a camera.

The next day at school, she asked every one of her teachers about local colleges.

* * *

_I open the store tomorrow, so I have to make sure my polo and khakis are washed. I should ask Frank for an extra and keep it at the store._

_American Literature essay due on Thursday… I need to go through that draft one more time before I send it in._

_Do I have enough gas to drive to Hastings?_

_Call the registrar’s office and ask about my transcripts and have them send copies._

_Ask Professor Haley to write me a letter of recommendation? I could probably ask Professor Norris, but Haley would look better._

_Oh my god, Xander, hurry up!_

Xander groaned against Kim’s neck as he stilled above her. Beneath her fingers, she could feel his muscles tense up, his skin slick with sweat. She was bound to smell like him now. _Add shower to the list._

Xander rolled off of her, rolling onto his side and facing away from her. Silence thickened the air along with his scent. Which would be fine in any other circumstance. She liked the quiet. But Xander wasn’t the quiet type. He’s much rather press himself against her or play a Doors record right after.

“What?” Kim asked.

“Nothing.”

“Xander, c’mon.”

He didn’t turn to face her. His dusty brown curls were damp at the ends, the half-hearted scratches down his back were already starting to fade. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, as if the action would have a deeper impact than looking her in the eye and doing it.

“You can just tell me if you think I suck at sex.”

Kim rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

Xander did turn around at that. He sat up, his sweaty back pressed against the blue accent wall that also served as his headboard. His brown eyes were dark and furious, but he kept his gaze on the hands in his lap. He picked at the cuticle on his thumb.

He asked her, “‘Oh my god, Xander, hurry up’?”

_Shit._

Xander looked at her then. “Did you want to have sex in the first place?”

_Compared to the usual ‘meh’ and ‘nope’ she experienced with other guys._ She could still feel the way her facial muscles pulled into a grimace after she lost her virginity in the back seat of Barry Sherman’s car. Not from pain—from disappointment. Pauline told her that first times were never good, that Barry would get better. But even in the comfort of a bed and practice with new lovers, Kim would stare at the ceiling and wait for it to be over. Xander surpassed her low expectations, made her feel good enough. And maybe good enough was the best she could do.

“Yes,” she replied. “I did want to have sex.” _Ish?_

“Then maybe you can give me some direction here, Kim!”

Kim shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Xander—“

“If you loved me, you would tell me the truth.”

“When have I not told you the truth?” _When have I ever told anyone that I loved them?_

“I just don’t know what’s real and what’s not!” Xander replied.

“It’s just sex!”

The breath left his body. “What?”

Kim looked up at him, her head resting on a fist closed tight enough that her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm. Xander was one in a crowd of thousands. The closer she got, the more detail she could see and the more she felt a yearning to touch his cheek and hold him close. He wanted her. He loved her. But there was no invisible string connecting them, no discernible features that she recognized. No feelings that she could reciprocate.

He probably came the closest to what she’d heard about. But he was still just another face in a crowd. Just like everyone else. Nothing special.

She sat up, the sheet falling away from her body as she stood up and gathered her clothes off the ground. The cold air of the room prickled her arms with goosebumps. She buttoned her jeans, pulled on her faded David Bowie t-shirt and a chunky yellow knit sweater. The only item of clothing that didn’t make it onto her person was black bra from Walmart. That she stuffed inside of her purse.

Kim’s hand barely brushed the doorknob of his studio apartment when he called out. “So that’s it, huh?”

She didn’t look back. “Yep.”

* * *

“You have a boyfriend?” Beth Wexler asked. 

“No,” her daughter replied. Kim was twenty-two. Two small suitcases and waited in her bedroom closet with a map and an admissions letter to the University of New Mexico. The minute her mother walked out the door, so would she. After two years of driving an hour and back for a small community college in Hastings, she would get in her car and drive over ten hours to Albuquerque. She would hide in the corridors of the university and would never to return to Red Cloud, Nebraska. She would claw into the earth like an anchor if anyone even tried to take her back.

Kim waited until the last possible second to tell her mom she was leaving. The sad thing is that she was taking it as well as Kim had hoped for.

“So you’re not pregnant?”

“No.”

“Are you a dyke or something?”

“I’m not anything.”

“Then why are you leaving me!”

Kim sat in her chair and observed the lines of her interlacing fingers. A memory of her mother playing with her passes by. _This is the church, this is the steeple..._

She jumped as Beth struck her open palms against the table, the clack of her rings making impact with laminate echoing through the space. The creak of the apartment door harmonized with her mother’s stifled sobs before it slammed shut. Kim counted to thirty, waiting to hear the wheels of Beth Wexler’s car peel out.

_This is the church… this is the steeple… open the doors… and see all the people..._

* * *

Her advisor suggested that if she was set on pre-law, Kim should apply to a law firm. “Majoring in it isn’t enough, especially when you don’t have connections here,” he said. “It’ll add to the appeal when you apply for law school. It might also help with loans and scholarships when the time comes.”

Her day off from the local diner was spent calling law offices about job opportunities. A fragile page ripped from a phone book was marked with graphite x’s for every firm she called. Those that said they weren’t hiring received more heavy-handed scribbles. There were only two or three checkmarks for the firms that suggested she come in and apply.

Entering Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill was somehow more intimidating than standing outside of it. She had visited two other law firms that day, and their offices combined could not compare to the size of it all. The receptionist was a grandmotherly figure, with fine blonde hair cut into a bob and eyes that were sharp despite her bespectacled face. She handed her the application, but before Kim could turn, the receptionist tapped on the desk.

“Your hand looks stained,” she said.

Kim looked down, examining the heel of her right hand. It sparkled with silver grey remnants up and down the side of her palm.

“Oh, uh, it’s just from my pencil,” Kim assured her. “Nothing to worry about.”

The receptionist thinned her lips. She plucked a pen from a wire cup and held it out. “Here,” she offered. “Take this.”

Kim shook her head. “No, it’s okay, I’ve got a pencil—“

“Dear, they’re looking for confidence, and a pencil is going to look like you’re afraid of making mistakes.”

Kim swallowed and tentatively took the pen out of the older woman’s hand. “Thank you.”

She took her time, dating it July 10th, 1992 with a careful hand, filling out her employment history of clothing retailers, restaurants, and volunteer hours. She was midway through explaining that she’s attending UNM for her undergraduate and her intention studying law when she heard a cacophony of rattling and squeaking approaching her.

“Kathryn! Looking lovely as ever.”

Kim looked up and observed the interaction at the front desk. The receptionist—Kathryn—had one eyebrow lifted as she was greeted by a man leaning casually against a mail cart. His wardrobe was a study in contrasts, a striped tie that was too short against a short-sleeved shirt that was too big. Chestnut colored hair hung over his brow, and he was too busy having fun to bother pushing it out of his face.

“I’ve got nothing for you, Jimmy.”

“What! Not even a ‘hello?’”

“You know, I was in such a rush this morning, I left all of my hellos at home.”

Jimmy cocked his head and spotted Kim. Their eyes locked, and she immediately broke contact. Where was she in the application? What was she saying? What if she just started scribbling to make it look like she was writing and not eavesdropping?

“Maybe I could wait until she’s done, and then I can take that little application up to Kelly in HR.”

“Or,” Kathryn said, “you can come back in about ten minutes and let the poor girl finish her application.

He sighed, exaggerated and playful. “Kathryn, you never let me have any fun.”

“It breaks my heart, believe me,” she deadpanned.

Jimmy heaved his cart forward, rattling and squeaking toward Kim. “Good luck,” he whispered in passing as he made his way toward the elevator. 

“Get used to it now,” Kathryn the receptionist warned. “He’s a sweet boy, though. Just started a few months ago.”

Kim squinted her eyes as he disappeared to the sound of bells. Typically mailroom clerks were younger, an entry level job before moving onto something bigger or more fulfilling. What was a guy that looked to be in his thirties or forties doing in the mailroom of a big law firm?

She was able to put in her two weeks notice by the following Friday. As she entered the mailroom for the first time, the first face that greeted hers was Jimmy’s. He beamed, jogging over to her like a puppy meeting a new friend. Every muscle in her back tensed.

He introduced himself: “Jimmy McGill. I see that the good luck I bestowed on you paid off!”

“Wait, McGill?” she repeated. 

“My brother is the one on the building.”

_Well, that answers that_ , she thought.

* * *

The door opened, and a square-jawed gentleman greeted her with a grin.

“Kim! Come on in, have a seat.”

Kim offered a thin-lipped smile as Howard Hamlin crossed over to his side of the desk. She followed, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt that had refused to be ironed out that morning. As she moved to sit, she miscalculated how low the seat of the chair was and clumsily fell back. 

Howard was too busy moving a small heart-shaped card off of his desk to notice. Or too busy smiling. Or maybe he was just too polite to mention it. “How’s the mailroom treating you?”

“It’s good,” she answered. “Keeps me busy.”

“And school? Are you still going the pre-law route?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be graduating this upcoming May.”

“Excellent news! UNM Class of ‘93!”

Kim nodded. Six long years of undergrad, half of it at the University of New Mexico. Only four more years and thousands more dollars to go...

“And somehow HHM hasn’t scared you off?” Howard chuckled.

“No, sir.”

Howard watched her, and the quiet hung over them. Kim remained still, taking in the crisp tailoring of his classic blue suit. Gold cufflinks peaked out from beneath his jacket sleeve, and it glittered in the afternoon light. Despite this private meeting, the wall-to-wall windows made her feel exposed to the world.

Howard leaned forward and began to speak. “Kim, the partners and I have been talking and we admire your get up and go. Working here full-time, pursuing your education in whatever time you have left. But there are some concerns that we have.

Kim swallowed. “Oh?”

“Law school is expensive, Kim. Very expensive. And unfortunately there is a perception that any person that does not graduate in three years is… well, it makes employers cautious. They have their wires crossed in what ‘dedication’ actually means.”

Kim processed his words, tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress again. Failing. 

“Thanks for the warning,” she said.

Howard’s eyes widened, and suddenly he began to laugh. He waved his hands like someone trying to erase a moment. “I am not making myself very clear! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

“Kim, what I’m trying to say here is that we believe in your talents. We want to make sure you and a few other prospective law students get that education and earn a seat at the table. So, permitting your acceptance into the program and that you pass the bar exam, there would be a place for you at HHM. And as long as you are employed here, HHM will assist you in paying off your debt.”

Kim’s heart stopped. “Wow.”

“When is the application deadline again?”

“Um, March.”

Howard nodded. “A few months away! Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. Think about it. No rush, but don’t procrastinate. Oh! Let me know if you need a letter of recommendation.”

As Kim closed the door behind her, a symphony of incoming calls and rustling of papers carried on. She walked back downstairs, and pretended not to notice Chuck McGill and George Hamlin deep in conversation on their way upstairs. Two of the men offering to pay for her future did not even register her presence as she passed by.

* * *

“He offered you a job!”

Kim raised her eyebrows, tracing the lip of her glass. Jimmy’s voice projected through the bar, but none of the patrons seemed particularly interested in her career. Even Burt and Ernie had abandoned their table to prowl the floor. After all, why pay attention to that when you’re trying to get laid on “ladies night” at the local bar? Especially when Valentine’s Day decorations were put on display by clumsy and uninterested hands.

A crowd of faces...

“After I graduate. _If_ I graduate. And then I would have to pass the bar… but yeah.”

Jimmy’s mouth was agape, gesturing wildly as if she had just pulled off a magic trick. “Kim! That’s—shit, yes! That’s amazing!”

“I know.”

“You have to take it!”

“I know.”

Jimmy drummed on the table, and the ice clinked against his empty glass and copied his beat. “Listen, I’m gonna hit the head real quick. When I get back, we’re celebrating.”

“I’ll get another round,” Kim offered.

He pointed a set of finger guns at her. “You’re my kind of gal.”

Jimmy jumped up and wandered over to the bathroom, and Kim considered cleaning the table of their empty glasses. Then out of the corner of her eye, Kim saw him. Her recurring living nightmare was waiting for her at the bar, blonde widow’s peak and a Cupid’s bow anyone could see from fifty yards away.

A sea of faces, and one of the faces was trying his best to stand out.

Kim grabbed her purse and crossed to the bar, as opposite of Widow’s Peak as she could get. She waved down the bartender, and before the woman could reach her, Widow’s Peak was next to her and leaning one elbow against the bar.

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“No, I got it—”

“What’s she ordering?” he asked the bartender.

She hasn’t ordered yet,” the bartender sneered at him. From the look she was giving him, this was not Widow’s Peak’s first rodeo.

Kim leaned forward to catch the bartender’s ear. “Two bourbons on the rocks, please.”.

Widow’s Peak held up a finger. “Go ahead and put it on my tab—“

“No, on my tab, please. Wexler.”

The bartender acknowledged Kim with a quick “you got it” before pulling out a new set of glasses and filling them with ice.

“I’m Darren.”

Kim stared ahead of her, watching the bartender pour amber liquid into each glass. Suddenly Widow’s Peak/Darren was speaking into her ear.

“My name is Darren. You got a name, beautiful?”

Then miracle of miracles, her knight in thrifted business casual attire jogged up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, let’s go, I had to fight off a couple of buzzards from our booth.”

Like clockwork, the bartender set two glasses on the bar, and Kim picked them both up and nestled into Jimmy’s side.

“Hey, you! I got your drink and I just met a new friend. His name is Darren.”

Darren tried to maintain that swagger while biting his lip, his Cupid’s bow accentuated into a sharp “v.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Then he pointed behind him. “Sorry, my friends are calling me over, so I’m gonna… head back… to my…”

He trailed off before he finally turned on his heel and went back to his group at the end of the bar. Loud and enthused “oooohs” greeted him, and Darren’s buddies whacked him on the back and comforted him with words like “you fuckin’ asshole” and “weak!”

Jimmy looked at Kim, and he squinted his eyes. “He offered to buy me a drink,” she explained.

“And you said—?”

“No.”

Jimmy clapped his hands together. “Kim!”

“What?”

“You could have gotten us free drinks!”

Kim’s jaw dropped. _What?_ “He was hitting on me!” she guffawed.

Jimmy nodded, his face exaggerated. “Yeah! So you have to exploit that shit before you pretend you have an older, very experienced boyfriend.”

Kim shrugged. “Integrity is my fatal flaw.”

“C’mon,” he ushered, pressing his hand against the small of her back..

She stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Well, you didn’t think this through, so now we have to finish our not-free drinks and act like a couple for the rest of the night.”

Kim let Jimmy lead her back to the table, his fingers trailing over to wrap around her waist. Her mouth curved upward, and a laugh bubbled up as he stumbled and accidentally bumped into her side. Bourbon threatened to spill over the lip of the glass, but somehow stayed in its confines as the two friends caught each other. She turned her attention back to the bar and locked eyes with Darren as yet another girl turned him away and his friends again punched him repeatedly in the shoulder.

Back at their table, Kim quieted again, nursing her drink as country music blared and bar patrons tried to talk over it.

“Kim?”

She lifted her gaze to Jimmy. He was sitting close, carrying on the charade of being her date as Darren and his friends got more and more drunk at the bar. His arm draped around her shoulder, the weight of his presence somehow grounded her. 

“Listen, maybe it’s just me,” he said, “but I’m getting the feeling that I’m more excited about this whole HHM deal than you are.”

Kim shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“What does that mean?”

“It feels like a handout. Charity.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble here, but it sounds more like indentured servitude. And trust me on this one, this is cushy indentured servitude. A college education paid for, the ability to buy groceries that aren’t generic brand, being able to pay late fees at Blockbuster—lofty goals!”

Kim ran her finger over her glass. Around and around and around. Through its curves, the glass distorted the bar’s interior like a broken window. Or maybe it was showing the world as it was.

“I’m just not used to it,” she admitted.

Jimmy rubbed her shoulder. “I hear you.”

“It’s already hard seeing teenagers wander around campus and with their daddy’s money paying their tuition and booze. But HHM? Everyone there has nice suits and big houses, nannies for their kids, expensive trips to ski lodges.”

“Lofty goals.”

Kim sighed. She could have feigned a laugh, but the shell was starting to break. Maybe if she released some of the emotional weight, she could repair the crack and move in.

“I don’t belong in that circle, Jimmy. And I really don’t have the time to pretend that I’m anything like them.”

Jimmy’s thumb ran across her shoulder. “You belong in that circle. Because you’re better than them.”

He was her best friend. Hell, he was her _only_ friend.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

His attention shifted past her and his mouth curled. Blue eyes brightened with mischief. “Hey, Darren and his buddies are paying their tab. They’ll be heading toward the exit pretty soon.”

Kim pursed her lips. “So they’ll be walking right by us.”

“Yep. How do you wanna play it?”

Kim looked at Jimmy, and then he wagged his eyebrows like a red-haired Groucho Marx, forcing her to laugh. She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her head to his chest. His heartbeat set a steady rhythm, offbeat from the twanging guitars flooding through the speakers. 

She recalled her sixteen-year-old self pressed a couch cushion against her heart and thought of Atticus Finch. Kim closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic _thump-thump_ that centered her. Jimmy’s hands lay flat on her back, holding her without trapping her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as Darren walked by and mumbled insults on his way out. His friends trailed after him, but one paused in front of their booth and saluted Jimmy before walking out.

“Poor Darren,” said Kim as she pulled away from Jimmy.

Jimmy _tsked_. “He’s probably really sad. He’ll cry in his sleep.”

“I mean, obviously.”

Jimmy winked, and Kim’s pulse jumped.

* * *

A boy in her political science class asked her out on a date. While they split an order of nachos and he joked about their slight age difference, Kim had a passing thought: Maybe her mother was right after all. Maybe she was just a “late bloomer” at the ripe old age of 25.

But by the third date, he was still just another face.

Nothing special.

* * *

“That’ll be you soon.”

Jimmy’s voice echoed in her ears as she watched Chuck walk back to his office and colleagues congratulated him on Isaacson vs. Vakarian Holdings. Chuck called her “one of their law students.” Despite not even being accepted yet, she was one of _their_ law students. The same man that walked right by her after the offer was made, and he answered her questions and looked genuinely impressed.

That gratitude dampened when Jimmy tried to join in. The smile Chuck had shifted from genuine interest into familial patronizing. It sent her back to Nebraska, back to a small apartment where her mother sat surrounded by beer cans asking if she had a boyfriend. Asking her why she was leaving.

She belonged at the table. Howard said so. Jimmy said so. And now Chuck saw her potential in the few moments they had.

Then why did she only have one foot out the door, ready to run back to the safety of the mailroom? What exactly was tying her there?

_That’ll be you soon._

“Yep.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a long one, so strap in.
> 
> Here be sexual tension, exploration of sexual (and acespec) identity, sexy times, fluff and angst! CARRY ON!

Kim found Jimmy in the break room, bent over notebook and a cup of coffee. His usual short-sleeved button up was replaced with a long-sleeved button up that was still too big for him. Despite their respective midwestern roots, the winter months in a desert still required layers if anyone wanted to survive the chill. The break room itself was a seasonal contradiction, decorated in a mishmash of green tinsel garlands and a lone faux cactus topped with a star.

“Hey,” she greets him.

He looks up, takes a quick sip of coffee. “Hey.”

“You’re here early. You’re usually here about five minutes before 8am… or five minutes after.”

He shrugged. “I have a final this week. I procrastinated, so you’re seeing some last minute shit.”

Jimmy looks back at his notebook. He was very calm for someone that was scrambling to study, especially when the page was mostly empty with the exception of a few doodles. Kim pursed her lips and nodded. The puzzle was already solved, but the pieces fit more tightly.

“So… There’s a ‘K’ in my locker.”

Jimmy looked up at her again, tilted his head, but his expression was uninterested. He looked like a parent listening to his kid’s big day at school, offering a simple, “Really? Huh.”

“Yeah. I just clocked in, and as I was opening my locker, a ‘K’ shaped thing about yea big almost fell out and landed on my foot. It’s like a scene out of The Godfather but the mafia is made up of Narnia and Sesame Street.”

“That’s something.” Jimmy took another sip of coffee.

“The thing is that I don’t think my combination is common knowledge.”

“It’s not.”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Jimmy.”

“Merry Christmas, Kim.”

“I’m changing my combination.”

Coffee cup pressed to his lips, his reaction was muted and monotone. “Good plan. That’ll show ‘em.” 

* * *

She had been studying with Liz on Easter Weekend. Their Civil Procedure course had started the semester with their professor annihilating his students mentally and emotionally on the first day. The bastard was tenured, so Kim and Liz became comrades, dedicating their weekends to the library and spending hours hunched over highlighted passages and notebooks filled with shorthand notes.

“Jesus, this final may actually kill me,” Liz bemoaned. “I might die.”

Kim drew a star next to a section that had been mentioned in passing. “I might know a few people who can help with a will.”

“Who’s getting your CivPro book after you die?”

“No one—all of my textbooks will be buried with me so that anyone desperate enough will dig up my grave to get them.”

Liz snorted, pushing her wireframe glasses back with the eraser of her pencil. 

“Hey, um… so John Waters has this movie that just came out. Kathleen Turner is in it, it’s gonna be fucking campy.”

Kim starred another section. “Sounds fun.”

“Do you wanna go? Like tonight?”

“Uh, sure. If we get our work done.”

“And maybe we could go out for drinks later. Or before. Whatever works best.”

Then Kim felt the tap of Liz’s combat boot against her foot. She looked up from her book and she saw it. Shit, she’d been ignoring it, but now it was right in front of her. Liz’s hair hid half of her face, but her shy smile and brown eyes shone. 

For just a moment, Kim considered lying. Saying yes. Yes to a movie, yes to a drink, yes to anything as long as she could keep one of the few friends she had. But then what? 

_“I just don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”_

_“It’s just sex!”_

_“What?”_

Kim told the truth. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Liz.”

Liz’s smile dropped, and that warm glow was replaced by distance and shakiness. “Okay. Yeah, sure. Sure, okay. Yeah…”

“Are you okay?”

Liz shook her head, then nodded. Her nose scrunched and it forced her lips to curl into something that was smile-adjacent. “Yeah! I guess I just didn’t read the room correctly. Whoops.”

After that weekend, Liz was suddenly too busy to study with Kim. She sat at the opposite side of the lecture hall, and Kim would catch glimpses of changes. A short cropped haircut, new glasses, a leather jacket replacing her oversized denim. 

One evening, Kim sat in the library and overheard Liz passing by, whispering into her cellphone to someone she called “baby.” Someone shushed at her, and Liz apologized and told the mystery woman that she’d talk to her after. She ended the conversation with “I love you.” 

Kim smiled, and then her heart ached. Her only other friend and the moment Kim said that she couldn’t, it was lost. There was no one to blame. She could have handled it better. But the risk was too high.

Nothing changed. Nothing special.

* * *

_Bump bump bump bump_. Kim lifted her gaze to Jimmy and the pencil he was drumming against the table. Ten seconds, ten minutes, ten hours—it didn’t matter, she was about to put her law career in jeopardy due to homicide. _It would be worth it if I hid the body well enough_ , she thought.

The drumming stopped, and Jimmy heaved a deep sigh. “Hey, can—?”

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything yet!”

“You promised we would focus on studying.”

“My question is about studying!”

“Fine. What is it?”

Jimmy put his hands together, a mix between a pitch and a prayer. “Can... we take a break?”

Her jaw clenched. “Jimmy.“

“Kim, my eyes are crossing, here!”

“Then take a break.” She uncapped her highlighter, and the cap fell out of her grip and onto the floor. She ignored it, determined to create one obscenely yellow block before the night was out.

“Nuh-uh,” Jimmy chastised. “You, too.”

“I will take my own break. My eyes are tired and I have been staring at this paragraph for the last five minutes, but I need to find at least one—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as Jimmy reached across the table. His fingertips brushed against her highlighter, and she yanked it back. Undeterred, Jimmy got up from his chair and reached again. Kim moved her hand out of the way, but the highlighter flew out of her hand and struck one of the white window curtains. A long fluorescent yellow streak curved down the fabric.

“Fine,” Kim groaned. “Quick smoke break, and then back to it.”

Jimmy held up a finger. “Or we can watch some TV.”

“Jimmy!”

“Kim, you’re either going to talk about work or school, and I need a solid thirty minutes where I’m not thinking about anything at all.”

She pressed her lips together, exhaled through her nose as Jimmy practically hopped over to her couch and sat down. He smirked at her, and patted the empty seat next to him. _I could hide the body, and then I could pass the test,_ she thought again. _Jail time doesn’t seem so bad._

Instead she stood up and surrendered to rest and relaxation. Kim crossed to the TV and turned it on. It was an old thing—one of the few things in the apartment that was hers and not her roommate’s. She turned the dial before she found a picture that wasn’t a black and white pixels moving against one another. A whistle plays its final notes and the screen stops on a dark sky and the text, _The truth is out there_.

“This good with you? Everything’s gonna be a rerun because of sweeps, anyway,” Kim asked.

“Sure.”

Commercials started to play as Kim walked back to the couch, collapsing backward and bringing feet up to curl beneath her. She folded her arms and waited through a slew of local advertisements for new and local banks until the slew of advertisements transitioned into Fox Mulder sitting in a dark room. She felt Jimmy shift next to her, and she turned to look at him.

His arms were crossed, but his head was tilted down. He breathed evenly in and out, in and out. Kim observed his face, and she realized she had never seen him one-tenth this relaxed and calm. He had spent the last few weeks bragging about how the University of American Samoa had multiple self-paced classes. He teased that maybe he could take his time and graduate by 90, or he could catch up to her in the course of two or three years. Clearly he chose the latter.

His lines and wrinkles smoothed away with the stoicism of sleep. Her fingers twitched with the instinct to brush the hair out of his face.

The moment was ruined when Kim turned back to the screen and saw a grey phallic-shaped parasite suddenly peak out of a dead body. Her scream jolted Jimmy awake.

“Jeezus! You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kim replied, one hand to her chest while Scully tried to pull the grey thing out with a medical tool. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Jimmy massaged his eyes. “Nah, I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway. I take it you’re not a fan of scary movies.”

“First of all, this is a TV show—”

“Uh-huh.”

“—and I don’t have a problem with being scared. I just want to know what I’m in for.”

Jimmy yawned. “Got it. Kim Wexler is only okay with horror movies as long as she’s not surprised.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what it sounded like.”

They both turned their attention back to the TV screen. It wasn’t long before Kim yelped again and buried her face into the couch cushion. Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We can change the channel,” he suggested. 

“Nope, I’m good. I’m just going to bury my face here until it’s safe to come up.”

“Well, nothing’s happening right now, so you’re probably good.”

Kim barely had her head up from her hiding place when she heard Jimmy yelp, “Holy shit!” She shuddered and clutched onto him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“Godammit!” she groaned.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. He rubbed her upper arms, friction from his roughened palms warming her skin. Jimmy’s life in Cicero wore him down, aged him in a way she couldn’t imagine. He didn’t run away from his home like she did. But he was here in the desert trying to grow and make a new life for himself. Same story.

Kim sat back to look at him. His hair was in his eyes again, and she brushed it back with her finger. She had to move away, sit back in her seat, go back to studying. Remember what happened with Xander, Liz, everyone. But the way he was looking at her...

 _Bad idea_ , she thought. _This is a bad idea._

She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. A tender and quick act, but he held her close and pulled her in for more. The kisses grew deeper and Kim shifted closer to him to straddle his lap. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him in and running her own tongue along his. She felt him half-hard against her inner thigh—

 _Too much. Kim_ lifted her head away, placed her hand next to her mouth as she tried to even her breathing. Jimmy stared up at her with a wide grin and bright eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was ragged and quiet.

Kim nodded. “Yeah. I just, um… I haven’t done this in a while.”

Not a lie. Not the full truth, but not a lie.

Jimmy bobbed his head as he processed what she said. “Okay. Well, good news: not a lot has changed.”

She laughed, and the tension in her neck released just a bit. His hands trailed up and down her thighs. In the background, the show continued on but it was a dull mumble compared to the volume of the silence between them.

“Listen, we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do.” He paused before he added, “Or… anything at all?

Kim lifted an eyebrow. “Was that a question?”

“To be honest?” he said. “I’m a really bad and selfish person and I want to keep going.”

She bit her lower lip, played with the collar of his shirt and admired the fabric’s texture between her fingers. “I wanna figure this out. Go slow. But I’m okay with going this far,” she agreed.

“Oh, thank god,” he growled before pulling her back to him. Kim giggled against his lips and they only separated when Kim heard the door latch open. Her roommate, Heather, walked in to see Jimmy and Kim stiff and as far away from each other as possible. But her ire only showed when she scowled at the bright yellow line that marked her beautiful white curtains.

* * *

The elevator doors opened, accompanied by a sweet tune as Kim and Jimmy rolled their respective mail carts into the small space. Jimmy leaned in conspiratorially as the doors began to close. “Movie tonight?”

“I can’t,” she answered, pressing the “3” on the panel. “I have work to do. Torts is kicking my ass.”

“Is there a movie about Torts?”

“I would rather jump out of a window.”

Jimmy nodded, rubbing his lower lip as he watched the floor numbers above them light up. First floor… the second floor lobby…

Then he pulled the red emergency stop button and the elevator stopped, the abruptness jostling a few manila envelopes and a single package to the tiled floor.

“Jimmy—!” Kim was cut off with Jimmy’s kiss, pushing her back against the wall. The handle bars dug into her hips, and she whined in desperation and discomfort. Her foot kicked up and whacked against one of the carts. Even with her rare interest in sex, the idea that _anyone_ would consider this ideal was mind-boggling.

“Jimmy, we’re at work.”

His mouth trailed a path of kisses down her jaw and neck. “I am working.”

“Jimmy,” she warned. He pulled away to meet her eyes, her face a stern scowl. He sighed and moved away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Her cheeks burned with anger, embarrassment, and something else. “Okay.”

She leaned over and pushed the red button back in, and the elevator continued its movement. The doors opened on the third floor and Kim maneuvered herself in front of Jimmy and pushed her cart out. As she passed out mail, her mind kept trying to escape back to the elevator.

At 5:10pm, she stood in the shadows of the parking garage smoking a cigarette. She puckered her lips and blew out a line of smoke, narrow and then expanding out until it evaporated into the air. The glass door muffled the sound, but she could hear the elevator doors open as the arrival tune played. She brought the cigarette back to her lips and kept her focus straight ahead, but Jimmy was there in her periphery.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I just wanted to say…” Jimmy stopped. His brow furrowed and he looked around. “Wait did you hear something? 

Kim’s eyes narrowed at him. “No?”

“Are you sure? I’m sure I heard something. It sounded like it came from over there.”

Jimmy turned, and Kim noticed it. On his back was a small post-it note haphazardly taped to his left shoulder. In his scrawl, it read: “Kick me. I’m a dick.”

A laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. _Ah, fuck it._ She plucked the post-it note off of him, kicked his calf, and called it square.

He turned back around, devilish delight lining his features. Tentative, he reached for her hand—

“Jimmy.”

“What? We’re not at work anymore.”

“We’re still on HHM property.”

“Okay, fine. Where’s the property line? You can show me and I won’t break the rules anymore.”

“Jesus, are you sure you’re 35?” She flicked the ashes from her cigarette and they floated down like flecks of burnt snow. “Or are you actually a teenager that just found out he can spell ‘boobs” on the calculator?”

Jimmy deadpanned, “I’m both.”

Kim shook her head. She took a drag from her cigarette, the end lighting up with a faint red light. She exhaled a puff of smoke as she held it out to Jimmy. “This is the closest you’re gonna get,” she told him.

He squinted at her, his mouth quirked up in a half-grin as he purposely brushed his fingers against hers. She watched him wrap his lips around the filter. He puckers his lips and exhales a puff of smoke, and she suddenly felt that something else pinken her cheeks.

* * *

_Bruuuuuung... bruuuuuuung..._

Kim smiled when the phone was picked mid-ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. I’m calling you back like I promised.”

“Kim! Hey! Um, hey. So the test sabbatical is over?” Jimmy’s voice was raspy and breathless. A hint of a startled tone crackled over their connection.

“Are you okay? You sound sick.”

“No! No, not sick. Well, maybe a little sick. Different kind of sick. Maybe it was something from... work... or something.”

“I can come over—”

“No no no! I’m fine! I’m good. It’ll pass. How about I check in with you later? About an hour?”

“Uh, sure. Bye, Jimmy.”

There was a click, and that was that.

The next morning she stood in the break room, pouring herself a second cup of coffee as Jimmy rushed in. The wall clock read 7:55am—five whole minutes early. He wore an open mouthed grin, clapped his hands together as he mustered up the words.

“Hey! I’m sorry about not calling you back last night. Lost track of time.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Jimmy looked around before he leaned forward and whispered, “How honest do you want me to be?”

Kim’s eyebrows flew up. “Wow. You _really_ just asked that.“

“I didn’t mean—Look, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because this is… fresh. New. We’re still figuring things out. And I didn’t want to push anything. Instead, we’re having this conversation that is making _me_ uncomfortable.”

Kim eyed the clock. 7:58am. “I have to get to work.”

“That’s the other thing, I really don’t want to talk about this here in case Burt or Ernie or, god forbid, Chuck walks in here. So maybe this can wait—”

She downed the rest of her coffee in one gulp and set her mug in the sink. The heat and bitterness burned her tongue. He jumped in front of her, blocking her from escaping and waving his hands in surrender.

“Fine! Fine, okay.” He glanced away for a moment, clearing his throat and keeping watch. Then he cleared his voice and clasped his hands together. His voice went low and quiet. “When you called last night I was… taking matters into my own hands.”

Her brows knit together and she shook her head. Jimmy huffed, opening his hands out in a shrug before bringing them back together. Whatever it was, he was trying really hard not to spell it out for her.

Kim’s eyes widened. _Oh._ “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Um, I’m sorry?”

Jimmy grimaced. “No, don’t… don’t say that. That’s not something you should say about that. Actually, if we could just pretend it never happened, that would be great.”

One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Well, at least you aren’t avoiding me.”

He shook his head. “Impossible.”

* * *

That weekend, Jimmy asked if he could come over to study with her, his exact words: “Contract Law is fucking me over, and it didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

And that was how their study date turned into Jimmy laying on top of Kim on her couch. Kissing Jimmy was something she was very comfortable doing. Even in moments when she got distracted and couldn’t let go, she could observe the way he reacted to her and find simple pleasures of that. The slight vibration against her lips as he moaned into a kiss, the soft sound of his hand sliding against the fabric of her top, the press of his chest against hers. It was enough for her.

“Do you remember anything we covered over the last two hours?” she asked breathily.

He nipped at the juncture of her neck. “I don’t, but feel free to quiz me on the last ten minutes.”

“Jimmy...”

“I can also give you an outline for the next ten to twenty minutes.”

“If you don’t pass the course, I will hogtie you and read your the whole textbook like a backwoods Clockwork Orange.”

His thumb brushed the side of her breast. “Is that a promise?”

“Jesus Christ, can you not—?”

Heather stood in the doorway dressed in her canary yellow work polo and khakis as she watched Kim and Jimmy jump back from each other. He landed on the floor, almost cracking his head against the coffee table. Kim made a futile attempt to brush out the tangles in her hair.

“Heather, hey! I didn’t know you were coming home so soon.”

“Apparently,” Heather grumbled. “I’m gonna need the living room for a while so—”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to go shower and change. I’ll be back in about ten minutes...” Heather focused her attention on Jimmy and added, “I’m pretty sure you’ll need less than that at this point.”

She walked off into the direction of her room, and Jimmy waved at her back. “You know,” he said. “Between that and that comment about how I look like a guy that hasn’t paid child support in six years, I’m starting to think that maybe— _just maybe_ —Heather doesn’t like me.”

Kim sighed. “It is getting pretty late. Probably best if you—”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a minute. Everything downstairs is very confused.”

Kim offered her hand and yanked him up. At the door, she lingered in the doorframe as she examined his face. She 

“Call me when you get home? So I know you made it back okay?”

Jimmy lifted an eyebrow. “What, like the Joker and Penguin going to rob the Albuquerque bus line?”

“Humor me.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later.” He leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers. He pulled away just enough to add, “Heather did say ten minutes right, maybe we can—”

“Go!”

She watched him walk down the flight of stairs. He turned, walked backwards to get one last look at her until he collided with a 1993 Mazda. She fell forward cackling as he flipped her off double barrel.

* * *

They sat at Kim’s small kitchen table, papers covering every surface area and books stacked into small towers. There was a tap on Kim’s foot, and she looked up from paragraphs and paragraphs of CrimLaw to find Jimmy McGill smirking at her. She turned her head back down, but she couldn’t stop looking at him. Nor could she fight the smile that flirtatiously curled her lips upward.

She touched her foot to his and they stayed like that as they continued to read.

* * *

_Briiiiing!… Briiiiiiing!… Briiiiiing!..._

Kim bit into an apple, reading through her notes. Jimmy had called her earlier that morning, asking her if she was up to anything.

_“I’m studying for a test, Jimmy.”_

_“When are you done?”_

_“I’ll check in with you at around 5pm.”_

_“Okay—“_

_“Meaning I will call you. You don’t call me.”_

Kim looked at the clock—4:35pm. She’d be flattered if she wasn’t just as pissed. _What part of “I will call you” don’t you understand?_ she thought to herself.

Heather charged through the hall and into the living room. Her hair was still dripping wet and a white terry cloth robe covered her body. The shower was still running down the hall, steam drifting into view. Kim worried about the water bill and her roommate’s pain tolerance.

“Stop ignoring the phone when it’s ringing,” she chided.

“Let it go,” Kim replied. “If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.”

“No,” Heather picked up the phone and placed the receiver next to her ear. “Hello? Sure”—she held out the phone and side-eyed Kim—“It’s for you.”

 _Godammit, Jimmy_. This conversation was going to be quick.

She crossed to Heather and took the phone out of her hand. Absolved of responsibility, she left Kim alone and retreated back into the bathroom. She placed the phone to her ear, unable to stop the frustration in her voice. “Kim Wexler.”

“Hi, baby.”

And just like that, hell froze over. “Mom?”

“I didn’t think you’d pick up. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“H-how’d you get this number?”

“I asked Pauline. Don’t be mad at her, I was just—uhm, I almost wrote a letter, but Alan said that this would be better. His exact words were ‘Damn, the phone rates.’” Beth giggled, short and nervous. Desperate to lighten the tension. Like tying a pink bow around a stick of dynamite.

Kim peeled at the skin on her apple. She picked away at the red flesh, her fingers getting stickier. “What do you want?”

Beth cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Kim waited and then her mother started to speak. “I’ve been doing this twelve step thing… recovery, I guess you’d call it. Alan is my sponsor, he’s been working with me. Look, I know that I put you thought a lot. That I hurt you. You probably never want to speak to me again. But I need you to know that I regret it. All of it. I should have been a better mother. And I am so, so sorry for everything that I’ve done.”

Kim swallowed, but her mouth was dry. Her jaw clenched tight. If she blinked, a tear could fall. Where was the line between righteous anger and weakness?

On the other side of the line, a voice hitched. “I love you, Kim.”

“Okay,” Kim answered. She hung up. The room was filled with the vibrant silence of the world continuing onward. The shower still sizzled in the background. The air conditioning unit hummed to life. Her neighbors locked their door, walked down the steps until their footsteps echoed away.

She hurled the apple into the wall. It smacked the wall with a heavy _thunk_ and landed on the floor with barely a sound. A wet and sticky print marked the beige wall. She’d have to clean that up.

Kim picked up the phone and dialed. She listened to the dull, muted ringing as her call was patched through. _Bruuung… bruuung…_ The click of a phone being taken off the hook.

“Jimmy McGill.”

“Can I come over?”

* * *

The best she could manage was holding onto the headboard as he thrust into her. Kim looked up at the ceiling and her eyes curved around the textures. He groaned as he pushed into her, kissed her neck. She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes. _God-fucking-dammit, relax!_

A thumb brushed against her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see Jimmy looking down at her. His voice was soft and breathless. “You okay?”

Kim swallowed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Kim, I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“I’m—” She stopped. She let go of the headboard, smoothed her hands up and down the skin of his arms. She waited a few more seconds for him to give up, start moving again. When he didn’t, she did. “It’s not you. It’s just... my body doesn’t work like anyone else you’ve been with.”

His eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh?”

She sighed. “Jimmy, seriously. You’re doing nothing wrong. This is enough, I promise.”

He shook his head. “No. Not good enough.”

Jimmy pulled out of her, away from her. Kim covered her face with the back of her arm and counted the seconds until he asked her to leave. But instead she heard a swishing sound next to her head, and she looked up to see Jimmy rearranging pillow against the headboard. He sat back against them, and smiled back at her.

“C’mere.”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just c’mere.” When she didn’t move to him right away, he patted the tops of his legs. Kim exhaled, a tentative grin on her face. She crawled over to him and Jimmy pulled her up and over him until she was straddling his lap. She sank back down on him, stretching her and filling her. “Good?” he asked.

“Yeah. But—”

“Kim, it’s okay. If you don’t come, we’ll try again.”

Kim thinned her lips. “Are you sure?”

“Kim, I’m stubborn as fuck, and honestly, the worst thing you could do is break off my dick. So don’t do that, and we’re good.”

She smiled. “I can handle that.”

Jimmy sighed in relief. “Alright. Now relax. No stress. Let’s have some fun. And again: don’t break my dick.”

She snickered, but he swallowed the sound with a kiss. His palms covered her hips and encouraged them to rock forward. She placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to close her eyes, but Jimmy whispered to her, “Stay with me, gorgeous.”

So she kept them open, holding his gaze on her as he guided her again. Kim set her own rhythm, controlling the pace and Jimmy responded. His bangs fell in his face, and she brushed it away. The way he was looking at her left her more vulnerable than anything else that they were doing in that moment. His pupils were dilated, darkening his eyes as he watched her. As if he was afraid she’d disappear if he looked away. It made something in her chest ache, and a moan escaped her lips.

It became a challenge to keep her eyes open. His forehead pressed against hers as they moved faster and faster, everything unrestrained and desperate. He moved his hand down, rubbed his thumb against her in small and tight circles. Her eyes shut tight and her mouth dropped as she climbed higher and higher until—

The tension that had been building inside of her snapped. She clung to Jimmy as she shuddered through it. He gripped her tighter, hard enough to bruise her skin as he muffled a growl against her shoulder.

Jimmy held her as they came down, running his hands down her back and over her hips. As high as Kim went, she felt cold fear run down her spine. It wasn’t a splash of cold water on a fire, it was like a meteor that was crashing down to earth to destroy everything she knew. This feeling inside of her was a stranger. This had nothing to do with anything like Atticus Finch or Xander or anything she had ever known. Sex she could understand. Base human instinct, a physical release, that was all.

But _this_? What the hell was _this_?

* * *

Dust particles danced among lines of sunlight that streamed through economy window blinds. Kim watched them jump and twirl, determined to stay afloat at all costs. Weightless and small.

Kim slowly rolled out of the bed, wiggling her toes over the rough texture of the carpet. She stood up and tiptoed through the apartment, gathering her underwear and jeans from where they fell on the floor. Every article she placed back on her body resulted in the sharp sting of a flashback from the night before.

“Making a run for it?”

She jumped at the sound of Jimmy’s voice. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, clad only in his boxers. His face was grim and solemn as he looked at her.

“Sorry, I just, um…” She bent to pick up her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Nothing had to be out of the ordinary. Nothing had to change. “I have to go. I have a lot of work to get done.”

Jimmy just stared at her, tried to decipher her. He rubbed his hands over his face, clasping them together as he leaned forward. _Like a pitch or a prayer._ “Kim, what are we doing here? What is this?”

Kim shook her head. “Jimmy, I don’t know. I really don’t know. That’s the best answer I’ve got.”

His lowered his head, staring down at the floor as he sat with the words. She could only stand there and wait. Sex was messy, emotions were messy, relationships of any kind were messy.

Kim Wexler wanted no part of it.

_So why do I feel like I’m dying?_

“Will you know?” he asked.

She bites the insides of her cheeks. It’s the only way she distract herself from the shame that bubbles up in her. Shame that makes her eyes water and the weakest part of her beg for him to look at her and tell her it was a mistake after all. That she didn’t ruin what they had because of something she’d never felt.

Kim’s voice cracked. “I wouldn’t wait to find out.”

* * *

Kim stopped by the front desk first instead of heading to the mailroom. Kathryn’s work area was covered with cards and chocolates, three balloons emblazoned with “We’ll Miss You” hover over her head. Howard stood over her, tanned and clad in a blue suit. Kim eyes the gold cufflinks peaking under his sleeves.

“Kim! How was your sabbatical?”

“Busy, Mr. Hamlin—”

“Howard, please! Mr. Hamlin is my father.”

“You’re both Mr. Hamlin, sir,” Kathryn replied. She turned to Kim. “You didn’t get me anything, did you, Kim?”

Kim scrunched her nose. “I’m afraid not.”

“Thank god. Just watch, I’ll clock out at 5pm, and Mr. Hamlin will be trying to stuff my car with these trinkets until 6pm.”

“Kathryn, do you think just this once, you can call me ‘Howard?’”

“No, Mr. Hamlin.”

Howard shrugged. “It was worth a shot. Welcome back, Kim.”

Howard strolled away, climbing the stairs as the elevator opened with a _bum-bum-bum-bum-bum._ Out came Jimmy, a box of chocolates under his arm. Kathryn eyed him as he approached the desk. “You traitor,” she said.

“Just because you said you didn’t want gifts doesn’t mean you’re not getting any.” He passed Kathryn the box and she rolled her eyes. Nonetheless, she took it and added it to the growing pile.

Jimmy turned his head and grinned. “Kim! Long time, no see. Come to see Kathryn one last time before she retires?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“If Kim keeps getting all this attention, I might be able to sneak out of her without any eyes on me” Kathryn joked.

Jimmy leaned against the desk and pouted. “Kathryn, you know I only have eyes for you.”

She winked. “I know it. Now you two get out of my hair, I still have eight hours of this nonsense.”

Kim followed Jimmy to the elevator, and the doors whooshed close.

“That test was a mother,” he moaned.

Kim remained quiet. It was the only thing stopping her from retorting, _That’s what happens when you take the bar before you finish your courses._

Instead, she offered him rueful smile. It was the only thing stopping her from touching his shoulder. It was almost two years after that foray into exploring whatever tied them together. A pattern followed. A touch on a shoulder melted into kisses and sighs in the dark, and then it would end the same way:

_Do you know?_

_Not yet._

The month of separation had been good for them. A sabbatical not just from work, but from temptation. A chance for Kim to focus on herself and score over four years worth of notes and textbooks. The test itself kept most of her attention away from a chestnut brown bangs that covered a fellow test-taker’s face, bravado gone and eyes crinkled as he stared down at his test. Again: _almost_ most of her attention.

They floated to a stop and the doors opened. Kim and Jimmy walked side by side and there was Ernie sorting through packages and letters. He pushed his glasses up and caught sight of them both. His smile betrayed his youthful age.

“Kim! You’re back!”

“Hey, Ernie. Hi, Burt.”

Burt swiveled around in his chair, big smile and his customary sweater vest. He held a styrofoam cup filled with coffee, too distracted with her presence to notice it dripped in pieces of mail and the floor. “Hail the conquering hero! Heroine—you get it! God, you missed a lot this month. Someone stole Ernie’s bike—”

“Hey,” Ernie whined.

“—but he got it back, I was getting to that part! Let’s see what else? There was a lot. Clara had her baby. Kathryn’s retiring today but you know that. Laura and I went to look at wedding venues in El Paso because _in-laws_... oh! Did Jimmy tell you that he broke up with girlfriend?”

Jimmy’s face paled. “She wasn’t my—”

“No, he didn’t,” Kim interrupted. “Wow, wedding venues! I guess a date is coming soon, huh?”

In the depths of the parking lot. Kim released a puff of smoke, adding a whistle on the exhale. The echo didn’t pick it up, but then again, the muted sound of the outside streets vibrated through the concrete walls. Then she heard the elevator sing its tune, the echo picked up the sound of the glass door being pushed open. One set of footsteps sounded like a march of tens in her direction.

She held the cigarette between her lips, digging into her purse while doing her best to avoid burning her nose with ashes. She pulled out a carton and offered one of many cigarettes. Jimmy shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

“So...” She placed the carton back into her purse and pulled her cigarette from her mouth. “I guess we know why you weren’t very prepared for the bar”

He groaned. “She wasn’t my girlfriend. It lasted three weeks max. It was nothing serious, alright?”

Kim held up a hand. “Jimmy, it’s okay. I’m just teasing you.”

“Look, I don’t really like talking about my personal life here. Chuck doesn’t even know I took the bar exam. And if we’re...” He trailed off. Kim averts her gaze to the rows of cars, hers off in the back. Neither could answer what they were or weren’t.

“Anyway,” he started again. “I’m not gonna bring anything up unless you ask me. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Also, it’s not like I proposed or anything.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Or the second time.”

“Shush.”

* * *

Her first few months as an associate was not attending trials or negotiating deals, but squinting at her desktop computer and highlighting small details in piles of documents. It wasn’t glamorous, but it also wasn’t the Hinky Dinky. A dark and crowded room filled with case files and bad lighting provided that comfort. 

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts, and there was Jimmy McGill and his mail cart.

“Hey,” he greeted before shoving his cart inside and closing the door behind him.

“Hey. You got anything for me?”

“Hm? Oh. No, not today. Um, listen, I hate to ask you this since you’ve got your own thing going… but what are you doing for the next seven months?”

* * *

“Did you know that the more times you take the bar, the more likely it is that you’re going to fail?”

Jimmy turned the beer bottle in his hand, feeling the weight of what was left. Kim lit a cigarette, the small flame burning through the cigarette paper and the tobacco. She inhaled, releasing her stresses from work into the dark. She and Jimmy had spent the whole of their Saturday hovered over bar prep materials. Five hours of watching Jimmy sink lower and lower into his chair, trying to hold up his head by leaning on his hand. She had to lure him away from the books and out onto the balcony, drumming her fingernails against a cold Shiner Bock like she was a redneck Pied Piper.

”That’s pretty defeatist.”

“It’s something I heard Dan say to the new intern today,” Jimmy continued. “Nicole, I think her name is? Anyway, he was telling her how important it was to study for the bar nonstop. ‘Like it’s a full-time job.’ Hell, you were gone for a month to study for it.”

“I tried to fight Howard on that, by the way. My savings account was not happy.”

“Even if you had kept killing yourself forty hours a week, you would have passed. I mean, if I put my life on hold, there’s still only a 60/40 shot that I’ll pass it on the third try. But you and Chuck? Certified geniuses on the first go around.”

That unknown feeling pulled at that place beneath her ribs. The temptation to wrap him up in her arms and hold him to steady. To break her own rules to have him near her and smiling for just a few moments. But what was safer?

“Well, maybe some of my genius can rub off on you.”

She held out her cigarette to him. Jimmy gently plucked the cigarette out of her fingers with no second thoughts. He placed the filter between his lips and the ashes light up as he takes a drag. She remembered stolen kisses in the elevator, and an apology in the garage. And how almost two years later, she offered him a cigarette of his own, and he declined it. _This is the closest you’re going to get_ , she had once said. 

He puffs smoke through his lips and it curls into the night sky. _Do you know?_ his eyes ask.

She met his eyes, blue darkened by night and shadow. After two years? How could she not know? 

Kim tilted her head, smiled sadly. _Not yet_ , she lied.

* * *

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Jimmy, I’m really slammed. Just tell me what you need.”

 _Click_. The door closed shut. The room darkened, the white light of her computer monitor and the only working fluorescent bulb illuminating the room in a dim glow. Jimmy held out an envelope, handled in a way that left indentations from his thumbs and a small crease on one corner.

“I can’t open it.”

Kim went to him, took the envelope from his hand. On the back, the return address is the New Mexico Bar Association. She ripped at the seam, pulled out the letter. In the back of her mind, Kim could hear the dark part of her soul laughing. Albeit with Jimmy’s permission, she was opening someone else’s mail. Technically a felony.

She traces a thumb along one of the creases.

_Dear James McGill…_

“So what does it say?”

Her face cracked into a smile.

She dropped the letter and it floated down as she wrapped her arms around him. His shock radiated through her and it only energized her, causing her to deepen the kiss. When she pulled away, she held him to her and laughed. So did he. For the first time in months, it felt like they could breathe.

Kim and Jimmy stayed like that for some time, embracing each other in the shadows. Her chest pressed against his, their hearts beat in sync. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate the kudos and comments left on the previous chapter. Hopefully this ending was satisfying if not open-ended.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot. Then it got too long, so now it’s a two-shot.


End file.
